


A place to stand

by Penthos



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: M/M, also lots of classical references, and all les amis eventually, because i never plan, if you have any ideas for future chapters feel free to say, plus ep and marius and cosette, so i hope this turns into a chapter fic, there is no plan to this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-04 16:49:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penthos/pseuds/Penthos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is a more-often-than-not hungover librarian who may or may not hate his job. Enjolras needs books, and happens to make Grantaire's life a little more interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The beginning

'Excuse me,' Enjolras said. 'Excuse me!' He repeated, louder. The man stirred but didn't sit up. Enjolras made a noise in the back of his throat, drumming his fingers on the desk and tapping his foot. Finally, finally, the man sat up, rubbing his eyes and forcing his fingers through his unruly hair.

'What?' He said, definitely not abiding to customer service rules, looking at Enjolras as if it was his fault he had to wake up.

'Could you tell me where to find the classics section?' Enjolras asked with no ounce of politeness in his tone. The man nodded (his hands were still covering his face) and stood up, stretching like a cat.

He followed the dark haired librarian (his name tag simply said 'R' and Enjolras didn't know if it was a joke or some sort of nickname) through the library, at a slower pace than he would've chosen, and tried not to complain.

'Jesus christ, it's eight in the morning, why the fuck are you even awake?' 

'I have a paper I need to write.' That earned him a grin and a knowing look thrown over a shoulder.

'Ahh, leaving it till the morning it's due? That's a well used tactic, my friend. But I wouldn't have pegged you down as the type.' Enjolras glared at him.

'Actually, I received the assignment yesterday, and I'd like to finish it so I can have a weekend.' That was a lie. Enjolras spent most of his weekends in the flat he shared with Jehan, finishing work, expanding his knowledge, and only occasionally going out with his friends. But, it was always worth it when he did.

R didn't say anything else, and they arrived at the classics section in silence.

'Here we are then. We've got Horace, Ovid, Vergil, Petronius, and a shitload more.' Enjolras looked up at the high bookcase in front of him. They were on the mezzanine level of the library, and from there, Enjolras could truly appreciate how large the library was.

'Thanks.' He said idly, and turned to browse through the books. He found the Odyssey and flicked through a few pages with a smile, memories of year ten classics coming back to him.  
Eventually, after nearly an hour of running his fingers along dusty spines, he picked out a few that he thought would be most helpful and shoved them awkwardly under his arms.

'These ones.' He said as he slammed them on the desk, once again waking R from what appeared to be habitual napping. Or maybe he was just hungover. 

'At least let a man sleep?' He muttered into the desk but sat up again all the same. Enjolras noticed tattoos curling up his chest and decorating his fingers and hands. He definitely _did not_ want to see more.

'Ahh the Iliad,' Said R with a sigh. 'That's a good one. I have to say, Patroclus was my favourite character, I don't know about you.' He looked up expectantly.

'I rather preferred Achilles.' He did, that much was true, and when he was angry (which wasn't uncommon) his friends, meaning Courfeyrac, had a habit of calling it 'Achille's wrath.' He felt like he could sympathise with the character. But R snorted.

'You would. The grieving hero, I can see it now. But I'd have seen you as more of an Apollo type.' A raised eyebrow from R, and Enjolras knew there was meaning behind that but he didn't want to delve into it. R shrugged and picked up the next book. 

'The Aeneid. Interesting.' He didn't add any other comments to that, or any of the other books, but while he was scanning them it was obvious he was deep in thought. Enjolras took the books and nodded goodbye, before leaving into the crisp January air. 

-

'You need to get laid, oh my god.' 

'Hello to you too, Courfeyrac.' Enjolras said dryly and looked up from his computer to where Courfeyrac had collapsed on his bed.

'Do you do anything except work?' Came the muffled reply which Enjolras chose to ignore.  
'But really,' said Courfeyrac sitting up and grabbing a pillow which he hugged to his chest, 'When was the last time you had sex?' 

Enjolras sighed. 

'I don't know? Seven months? A year?' Honestly, he didn't keep track, and relationships weren't his thing. But Courfeyrac was gaping at him.

'How the fuck do you go a year without sex? I don't think I could go a week.'

'I think we all know that, Courf.' Enjolras certainly did, especially when Jehan brought him home, which usually meant a sleepless night for all of them. Courfeyrac winked at him.

'Alright. New mission,' Courfeyrac sat up straighter, 'Get Enjolras laid. Tonight you're coming with us to the bar and by tomorrow you will have had th-'

'There's already someone.' Enjolras said quickly, and Courfeyrac nearly fell off the bed.

'Who? You have to tell me or I might explode.' Courfeyrac said it so sincerely Enjolras felt like he believed him.

'Just...someone I spoke to this morning,' He said vaguely, grabbing at non-existent straws. 'I don't even know his name.' He added hastily. _Put down the shovel, Enjolras, you're digging yourself into a hole._

However, thankfully, Courfeyrac's attention had shifted to his phone which he was staring at so intently Enjolras wondered is he was trying to attempt telekinesis.

'I'm going back to my place. Right now.' Courfeyrac said and jumped off the bed with a cackle. 

'Do I even want to know?' Enjolras asked over his shoulder.

'Jehan's waiting for me, he says th-'

'Okay I really don't need to hear the end of that sentence.' Enjolras covered his ears, because however much he loved his friends and supported their relationship, he really did not need to know what they got up to behind closed doors.

Courfeyrac laughed and practically ran out the door, leaving Enjolras alone in the apartment.

An hour later he found himself flicking through The Aeneid, wondering what had made R go so silent when he had found it, but finding nothing of significance he closed it and made to go to bed.


	2. Tattoos and coffee

Enjolras woke up to noise. A lot of noise, that his sleep muddled brain couldn’t work out.

His eyes flew open when he realised what it was. It appeared that Jehan had brought Courfeyrac home sometime in the night, and they had a habit of morning sex. Loud morning sex. Enjolras covered his head with a pillow but it didn’t block out the thuds through the wall or the way Jehan was practically screaming Courfeyrac’s name. 

It was too much and he was feeling a little hot, so he got dressed as quickly as possible, grabbed his books and made to leave.

‘I’m going out, goodbye.’ He shouted in the direction of Jehan’s door. It was silent for a moment.

‘Okaa- _fuck_. I mean- I mean, yes bye!’ The last word was shouted and Enjolras heard giggling which turned into moans and he left the flat with a look of disgust on his face.

It was ten minutes later that he found himself wandering in the direction of the library. He stopped outside the steps, his mind spinning. Well, there was certainly no reason why he couldn’t go in there. None at all. So he turned his thoughts to all things classical and strode through the doors. Other than the few tired looking students, there was no one there. Well, he hardly expected anyone to be there that early in the morning. 

His glance hovered on the classics section at the back, and then he turned to look at the desk. R was asleep again, his hat pulled right down over his hair and his head resting on his arms. Tutting, Enjolras headed over to one of the large unoccupied desks and unpacked his laptop and books. 

-

His head snapped up when he heard the thud of books on the table beside him.

‘Thought you might find these useful. You looked like you were struggling.’ It was R, decidedly less asleep than he had been earlier, and leaning on the table next to Enjolras.

‘I’m not struggling.’ He replied haughtily, and didn’t look at the books.

‘Whatever,’ R shrugged. ‘What are you writing anyway?’ He leant round Enjolras, one hand on the back of his chair, and stared at his computer screen.

‘Did imperialism exist in the ancient world? Wow, that sounds fun,’ He grinned, but at no response he looked back at the screen. ‘Enjolras. Jesus christ, that’s a fucking mouthful.’

Enjolras glared at him.

‘At least it’s an actual name and not a letter.’ R laughed then and looked down at his name tag.

‘My name’s Grantaire. R’s a nickname,’ He smirked at Enjolras, ‘Beca-‘

‘Grand-R, I get it.’ Enjolras said and pursed his lips. Grantaire raised his eyebrows.

‘I’m impressed. No one’s got that be-‘

‘Are you going to let me finish my essay or just talk nonsense to me?’ Enjolras cut in. He didn’t know why he was being so cold, but he put it down to stress. However, Grantaire didn’t seem offended and he shrugged before walking away. 

Flexing his fingers, Enjolras got back to his essay.

-

It was nearly midday, and Enjolras could feel his thought slipping away from classics, away from ancient greece, and towards the prospect of food. 

‘I thought you could do with some coffee.’ It was Grantaire again, having apparently acquired mind reading abilities, and holding two coffees, one offered to Enjolras who turned to look at him. He took the coffee begrudgingly and looked at the side. 

‘It says Apollo.’ He stated. It also said it contained soy milk and he wondered how Grantaire had known he only drank soy milk, but he didn’t question it. Grantaire grinned around the lid that was between his lips.

‘I see you more of an Apollo type.’ Again, Enjolras didn’t question the meaning behind it, but took a sip gratefully. A pause.

‘Why do you keep helping me?’

‘I was a student once too. I understand how you feel.’

Enjolras narrowed his eyes at him, because he didn’t look old but he didn’t look young. His eyes shone with laughter but they looked capable of flaring with anger.

‘How old are you?’ He asked in curiosity. He had never been inhibited in his prying, and didn’t particularly care for the feelings of others unless they meant a lot to him.

‘23. I studied art and literature but I dropped out in my second year,’ Grantaire seemed reluctant to stay on that topic, and his eyes flicked to the computer screen again, and he whistled. ‘You write fast. That’s a pretty heavy essay for your first year.’ 

Enjolras glared at him and sat up straighter.

‘Third year,’ He corrected, and Grantaire stared at him, ‘I’m 21.’

‘Jesus fucking christ, you look about 17.’ Grantaire looked a mixture of shocked and something else. The curve of his lips reached his eyes and his eyebrows were hidden somewhere behind his hair.

Enjolras was used to it though. His clear complexion, bright blue eyes and blonde hair gave the impression of someone much younger than him. But anyone who knew him would say he was born in the wrong century, more suited to the headstrong ideas of the 19th century or the philosophical mind space of the ancient Greeks.

The conversation died there, neither having anything to say, and Grantaire soon wandered off. Enjolras couldn’t help the way his eyes followed him, and he took the few second before he rounded a corner to study him. He wore baggy t-shirts in earthy colours, skinny jeans stained with paint and ink, and ragged Toms on his feet with no socks. He had tattoos on his hands and fingers, his chest, his ankles and probably more hidden away. Around his wrists were various bits of string, bracelets, and concert wristbands.

And then he turned the corner and disappeared from view.

-

‘So tell me, who is this someone you met?’ Jehan asked as soon as Enjolras walked in the door.

‘I- What?’ 

‘Courfeyrac told me what you said, that there was someone you met. And you need to get laid.’ 

Enjolras groaned, because Jehan was the second person to say that to him.

‘I do not need to get laid.’ He said through clenched teeth, putting his books down.

‘Oh come on, you can only do so much with your hand.’ Jehan said perfectly calmly as if they were talking about the theatre. Then again, Jehan was the kind of person who wrote poetry and picked flowers, but from what Enjolras had heard, he also tied you to the bed by your cravat and fucked you into oblivion. That was how Courfeyrac had put it and Enjolras had had a hard time (no pun intended) getting those images out of his mind.

He ran a hand through his hair.

‘Listen. Tell this to Courfeyrac and god knows who else. There is just someone that I met and I don’t want rush into things with him, that’s all.’

‘Oh, so it’s a him. At least tell me his name.’ Jehan had his chin in his hands and was watching Enjolras dreamily. Enjolras, who was struggling to think of a name.

‘Grant-’ He stopped. There was no way he was going to say that name, the name of the raggedy-college-dropout-perpetually-hungover-tattooed librarian that had just so happened to pop into his head. So he bit his lip and walked as quickly to his room as possible. 

His phone beeped ten minutes later.

 **Courfeyrac**

Tell me everything about Grant

xoxoxoxoxo

Enjolras fell face first onto his bed with a resigned moan.


	3. Nisus and Euryalus

The next day Enjolras returned to the library, the whole way there telling himself it was for the books and because why pass up a chance to go to such a fantastic library? As soon as he walked in his eyes were drawn to the front desk, expecting messy curls atop a sleeping figure. He did a double take however, when he saw a young woman sitting at the desk instead, her feet on it and a magazine in her hand. 

'Good morning.' Enjolras said to her and why was he speaking to her?  
She looked up from her magazine and very nearly fell off her chair in her struggle to stand up.

'It's you.' She said breathlessly, her mouth hanging open and her magazine abandoned on the floor.

'Sorry?' Enjolras stared at her, her messy brown hair and tanned skin and wondered if she was Grantaire's sister. They looked very similar. 

'The guy from the classics section? It is you right?' She was not making anything any clearer.

'Er, yes I suppose? How do you know about me?' At that, the girl (Eponine, her name tag said), clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

'Nothing. I said nothing. Absolutely nothing.' She grabbed the magazine, sat down and hid behind it. It was upside down. But Enjolras didn't leave, he simply stood there with a frown and waited till she stood looked up again with a sigh.

'Ok, fine. Grantaire might have mentioned you in passing. You know Grantaire right?' Enjolras nodded slowly, 'Yeah, well he gets bored here, and he just said there was a guy interested in classics and he likes classics and that's all there is to this story really.'  
She stared at him for a minute with slightly manic eyes, and finally he decided it wasn't worth it and went to his usual table.

He couldn't concentrate on his book. Grantaire had mentioned him to someone. Which was all kinds of weird because who brought up strangers they helped in a library? Then again, Enjolras had sort of brought up Grantaire himself. Or at least thought of him. But he had a reason for that, and Grantaire had apparently just spoken about Enjolras as one speaks about a film they saw or what they had for lunch. 

He didn't know why it was so confusing to him, the idea that people thought of him when he wasn't there. But his mind kept on running over the scenario until he realised what he was doing and shoved his head in his book. 

-

Grantaire wasn't there the next day, or the day after. Enjolras arrived at the same time every morning and there was Eponine, sitting at the desk on her phone. Maybe Grantaire had quit, or found another job or gone back to college. That made something twinge in his chest so he didn't think about that. 

Enjolras found himself wandering back over to the classics section again, climbing the rickety staircase and remembering how displeased Grantaire had been about the earliness. He was walking along the shelves when The Aeneid caught his eye. Of course, he had a copy at home, but he'd lent that to Jehan, so he picked it out. 

The book fell open on a chapter entitled "Nisus and Euryalus". His eyes flicked to the end, caught by a paragraph, and he read from there.

'Volscens, the leader, ignorant whence the darts came, rushed sword in hand upon Euryalus. “You shall pay the penalty of both,” he said, and would have plunged the sword into his bosom, when Nisus, who from his concealment saw the peril of his friend, rushed forward exclaiming, “’Twas I, ’twas I; turn your swords against me, Rutulians, I did it; he only followed me as a friend.” While he spoke the sword fell, and pierced the comely bosom of Euryalus. His head fell over on his shoulder, like a flower cut down by the plough. Nisus rushed upon Volscens and plunged his sword into his body, and was himself slain on the instant by numberless blows.'

He was instantly taken back to the classics he studied in his first year at university, discussing the intimate relationship or Nisus and Eurylus. Nisus, the elder and more experienced and skilful with arrows, and Eurylus, young and with the face of a boy, described as more beautiful than any of Aeneas's men. 

He jumped when he heard a noise behind him, hastily closing the book and turning around to see Eponine. 

'The Aeneid. That's his favourite book.' She hadn't said a name, but Enjolras knew she meant Grantaire.

'Yeah, he said something like that. Do you know why?' He was curious now, and Eponine could bring answers, but she shrugged and Enjolras' heart sunk.

'I don't know. He always liked Nisus, you know? And loved how Nisus had rushed forward to save his lover,' Enjolras raised his eyebrows slightly. So Grantaire believed in their relationship, 'Oh come on, you know they were fucking.' 

At his shocked look she laughed.

'Have you finished your essay yet?' She asked, and Enjolras didn't even question how she knew, putting The Aeneid back on the shelf.

'No.' 

'Maybe you should go to the museum, I think they have an exhibition on about ancient Greeks.' With that, she winked, and twirled away down the steps. Enjolras briefly noticed tattoos on her arms as well, but didn't dwell on it. The museum sounded like a good idea. It would be a break from books and Joly had been lecturing him on eyestrain the other night.

He stretched, arching his back and raising his arms above his head, before packing up his things and leaving.


	4. Orestes and Pylades

'I'm going to the museum.' Enjolras said through the open door into Jehan's bedroom. He saw Jehan's blonde hair on the pillows, wondering if he had heard. Jehan looked so angelic like that, the morning sun on his face and Enjolras was smiling against his will when suddenly Courfeyrac sat up from next to him. He hadn't even known Courfeyrac was there, but he was sitting there with the blankets around his waist and dangerously close to being naked, beaming at Enjolras as if it wasn't seven in the morning.

'Have fun with your boyfriend.' He said, while Jehan's hand sleepily tugged him back down, curling around him. Enjolras looked away in modesty.

'He's not my boyfriend. And I'm not even meeting him.' He said solidly, before turning and leaving because that was definitely hands moving under the covers and he did not want to see what was going to happen next. Blushing, he grabbed his things and escaped the flat before the low voices turned into moans.

-

The first thought that went through his mind was 'what the ever loving fuck' followed by 'fate is a cruel mistress'. He was well aware that his jaw was probably on the floor, but his mind was whirling too fast as he stood in the museum entrance. 

Enjolras didn't know whether to be annoyed or oddly happy when he saw the unmistakeable dark curls and the red hat, and he was considering walking in the opposite direction when Grantaire turned and saw him. And walked towards him.

'I thought I'd find you here.' He said, and stuck his hands in his pockets.

'I- What?' 

'Eponine told you to come.' He said with a shrug, leaning against a wall. They were standing in the main entrance hall which was practically empty.

'You know Eponine?' Enjolras asked, before mentally slapping himself because Eponine had fucking mentioned Grantaire, of course he knew Eponine.

'Yeah, she's a good friend. She did all my tattoos.' As if to prove his point, he rolled up a sleeve and brandished his arm in front of Enjolras. He caught a glimpse of what looked like a line of music, before the sleeve was shoved back down with a smirk.

'You still doing that essay?' Enjolras nodded, 'Then let's look around. Maybe you'll find something interesting.' And with that he pushed away from the wall and started walking int he direction of the main gallery, leaving Enjolras no choice but to follow with very mixed feelings.

-

As soon as they walked into the first gallery Grantaire stopped and Enjolras nearly walked into him. He was about to complain, but Grantaire was walking slowly towards a statue in the corner. He stopped in front of it, looking intently. 

'Taking the love god as the mediator of their emotions for each other, they sailed together as it were on the same vessel of life,' Grantaire said in a low voice, 'Orestes and Pylades.' He said finally, turning to Enjolras.

Enjolras nodded slowly as he remembered who they were. Greek mythological characters, associated with homoerotic relationships in ancient Greece. The fierce love they had for each other, the way they were both willing to die for each other, was not unlike that of Nisus and Euryalus. 

'Nisus and Euryalus?' He said quietly, and that definitely got a reaction. Grantaire looked up at him and smiled.

'Nisus was always my favourite. And Pylades.' 

There was silence for a moment while they both regarded the statue of two men, one with his arm slung round the others shoulders. 

And then just as suddenly as they had arrived, Grantaire turned and walked into the next gallery, leaving Enjolras confused for the second time about things regarding Greek mythology. 

By the end of the visit Enjolras had accumulated sufficient evidence to provide support in his essay, and some of Grantaire's comments had been incredibly insightful, looking past what was there and into what the artist had meant. 

When they had walked past a statue of Apollo, Grantaire had smirked and nudged Enjolras who frowned.

'Why do you keep associating me with Apollo?' He finally asked, and Grantaire grinned wolfishly at him. 

'Have you seen yourself?' That was the only explanation he offered, leaving Enjolras no choice but to make a mental reminder to brush up on his Apollonian knowledge when he returned home.

When they came to the end of the exhibition there was an awkward moment of 'should we say goodbye or see you again?' which ended in a half-handshake-half-high-five which didn't exactly work for either of them. They nodded at each other, and Enjolras left, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. 

-

Enjolras managed to get home with little difficulty, dodging around Jehan when he entered the flat, and walking straight to his room.

'What happeneeeddd.' Jehan whined through the door, and Enjolras head him slump down outside.

'Nothing happened. I went to the museum and made notes for my essay. Leave me alone so I can write it.'

'But what about Grant? Wasn't he there?'

Enjolras allowed himself one small smile. Grant hadn't been there _per se_ , but Jehan had made no mention of a Grantaire.

'No, Grant wasn't there.' He said with an air of finality, and when no more was said, he heard Jehan walk away on light footsteps.

It took almost four hours, but his essay was finally complete. Eight detailed pages about ancient societies and imperialism, and he ran a hand through his hair as he read through for the third time. His phone beeped, shaking him out of his study haze, and he picked it up. 

**Unknown number**  
finsihed ur essay yet, apollo?

He stared at his phone for a moment. Only one person called him Apollo. So how did that one person happen to have his number?

 **Enjolras**  
How did you get my number?

Grantaire replied at lightning speed.

 **Unknown number**  
lucky guess

 **Enjolras**  
How?

 **Unknown number**  
ep. she knws some bloke caled marus who knows smone with a weird ass name. coferac or somethign

 **Enjolras**  
Courfeyrac. I need to tell him to stop giving my number to random people.

 **Unknown number**  
but im not a ranodom person

 **Enjolras**  
I don't know that. You could be a crazy psychopath who works in a library, enticing his victims with classical books before violently murdering them.

 **Unknown number**  
yep u guessed it. im goign to sacrifce you to dionysus

 **Enjolras**  
Dionysus? Really?

 **Unknown number**  
hed proabbly give me an unlimietd suply of wine or somethgn. anywya you dindt anser my first question

 **Enjolras**  
Yes, I have. Just now.

 **Unknown number**  
oh. so i gues you wont be coming back to the library?

Enjolras stared at that message for a moment, before tapping out a reply.

 **Enjolras**  
I don't know. I still need to return these books.

 **Unknown number**  
oh okthen. i have to go now. it was nice talkign to you. bye

 **Enjolras**  
Bye

 

Enjolras put his phone down and bit his lip, before picking it back up and adding Grantaire to his contacts. Hoping it wasn't a bad decision, he switched off his phone and printed his essay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> massive thanks and i love yous to everyone reading this, you're all fab and wonderful.   
> i hope you like all the classical stuff, i spent like three hours googling greek gods  
> but wow if that isnt interesting than nothing is
> 
> (im not being sarcastic its really cool)  
> ((shit. return of the brackets))  
> (((if you know about the brackets then i love you a lot)))  
> ((((hint: petit boulangerie))))


	5. Things get colder

The next day, Enjolras did exactly what he had said, and gathered up his books to go to the library. Without saying goodbye to Jehan, he grabbed a piece of toast and left, shrugging his jacket on as he shut the door. It only took him twenty minutes to walk there and throughout the whole journey he was strangely aware of the weight of his phone in his pocket, and the new number saved onto it.

He pushed open the huge library doors for what felt like the hundredth time, and strode straight towards the desk. Then his heart stuttered, and he stopped, only just tightening his arms in time before the books fell. Because Grantaire was awake, and he wasn't alone. There was a woman practically straddling his lap (the rational part of Enjolras' mind saw it as a disgusting thing to be doing in a public place) and whispering in his ear, giggling while her fingers slid under his shirt.

Jealousy flared up inside him, anger and hatred for the women with the dark, curly hair who shouldn't be doing that to Grantaire. His nails were digging into his palms and his head felt strange. He hadn't been noticed yet, a lone figure standing motionless by the door. When the immediate flood of emotion had faded somewhat, he came back to his senses. His first thought was horror at his own reaction. There was no reason why Grantaire couldn't have a woman on his lap. And Enjolras felt sick as he remembered the wave of jealousy that had washed over him. He had no reason to be jealous. Grantaire was simply the more-often-than-not hungover librarian, sarcastic yet slightly mysterious, and Enjolras had no business _caring_ about him.

Resolutely, he marched up to the desk, slamming the books down as loudly as possible. They both looked up and Enjolras purposely looked away. He saw movement as the girl climbed off Grantaire's lap, saying one last thing in his ear before leaving with a smirk and a wink at Enjolras. He gave her a look of haughty disdain. 

And then they were alone and Enjolras finally looked at Grantaire. Grantaire, who had his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide and fixed on Enjolras, gauging his reaction. He looked about to speak, but Enjolras cut him off.

'I'd like to return these, thank you.' He said with a tight smile. 

'I-' Grantaire began, but Enjolras was turning on his heel and walking as fast as was deemed acceptable to the exit. It was too hot in the library, and his head was spinning. As soon as he got outside he breathed the cold air deep into his lungs, running a hand through his hair. He didn't hear the pounding footsteps behind him.

'Enjolras, wait.' He spun round at the sound of Grantaire, forcing a smile on his face.

'If you wouldn't mind, I have somewhere I need to go.' He made to walk away. He was angry, and he wanted to shout at something. His pillow usually sufficed. 

But then Grantaire grabbed his arm, holding him in place, and he was all too aware of the warmth of his hand.

'She's no one, I promise, she's ju-'

'What makes you think I care?' Enjolras said, almost as cold as the wind that was biting at his cheeks.

'I- you looked upset when you- she's no one, she just wanted to ask me something.' 

'Will you let go of my arm, please.' Enjolras said through teeth gritted against the cold and the situation. 

'Just- will you come back?' Grantaire sounded so genuinely hopeful, and the look in his eyes was verging on pleading. But he had released his grip on Enjolras' arm.  
Enjolras, who walked away as swiftly as possible, away from Grantaire and away from that goddamn library.

-

Jehan wasn't in when he got home, and it was nearly midday. He wasn't hungry. He was contemplating calling Combeferre, his closest friend, giver of the best advice, and calm in every situation, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked at the screen, and when he saw the name Grantaire, he switched it off and threw it at his bed with perhaps a little more force than necessary.

Tugging at his hair again he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he set about making tea, a sandwich (only so he didn't die. Jehan often told him that food was needed for life, especially when he didn't eat for days during a particularly tough essay), grabbed his laptop, and curled up in his bed under his duvet. 

For three hours he stayed there, finishing off work that he had weeks to do, and when he'd done all that, he watched a film. He forgot the title as soon as it started, and the plot as soon as it finished. His mind was still whirring, so he tried sorting out his thoughts. 

He had seen Grantaire with a girl on his lap, not strictly kissing, but that had been more than platonic. He had felt jealousy and anger at the sight of them. He had absolutely no reason to be jealous of the girl, she had every right to be doing that, maybe not in public, however. And Grantaire, he had seemed so upset and insistent that Enjolras should know she meant nothing. 

After two hours of careful thought he had come to no conclusions except to try and forget the entire thing. He quelled the jealousy, and then decided that it hadn't been that, but something else.

(a small voice in the back of his mind told him it had been)

When he was overcome by agitation and maybe too much tea, he got up and stretched. Grabbing his phone as a habit, he changed into warmer clothes and left the flat. It was nearing seven in the evening, and dark outside, but that had never stopped him walking before, and he inhaled the icy air into his lungs with a sigh.

-

He barely resisted kicking the door in as he stood outside in the freezing cold, cursing every single person he could think of. How the fuck had he forgotten keys? Actually, why the fuck were't they in his pocket where they always were? And also, why the hell wasn't Jehan answering the door?

Turning on his phone, he carefully ignored the message from Grantaire and went to compose another text. But then he received a message, dated about eight hours earlier.

 **Jehan**  
heey just letting you know im at courfs tonight  
xoxoxoxoxoxo J

Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose with shaking hands, begging for patience. He scrolled through his contacts, a total of five numbers. He called Combeferre, but his phone was off. He was about to call Feuilly but then remembered that Bahorel had thrown his phone at a wall ("I was trying to see how hard I would have to throw it for it to break") (not very hard). He looked at his last contact with trepidation building in his stomach, and finally his resolve broke, probably because it had started to rain, and he dialled the number with trembling fingers. After three rings it picked up.

'Um, hello?' 

'Hi, it's Enjolras. Listen, I'm really sorry about earlier and everything, but I'm locked out and I'm pretty sure Siberian weather has come over here, and it's just started to rain and I..' He trailed off because he hadn't actually planned what he was going to ask.

'Do you want to come and stay with me?' Grantaire's voice was rough, but he could hear a smile in it.

'I'm really sorry, I wouldn't ask if I wasn't going to die of pneumonia, and just,' He ran a hand through sopping wet hair and squeezed his eyes shut, 'None of my friends are picking up, and my flatmate's with his boyfriend.'

'It's fine, don't worry. I wouldn't want anyone to be left out in this weather, let alone Apollo. I'll text you my address, okay?'

'Okay. Thank you.' He hung up quickly, hiding his phone under his jacket so his only means of survival didn't break. Grantaire sent his address, and at the end it said: 

_'i promise i won't murdr you and sacrfice you to dionysus. even if he ofefrs me wine'_

With a reluctant smile, he hailed a taxi, wondering just how much he was going to regret this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can see you all wondering with your confused minds over thIS GIRL????? who is the girl hummmm all shall be revealed
> 
> oh god, i have no idea where this fic is going, this chapter wasn't in my plan i dont know whats happening anymore, so yes, sorry 
> 
> (once again, thank you's, merci beaucoups to everyone reading this *kisses ur faces*)
> 
> ((ALSO I HOPE YOU NOTICED THE TITLE BECAUSE ITS BOTH LITERALLY COLDER AND THE TONE IS COLDER DO YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE I HOPE YOU DO))


	6. Contentment

The door opened and Enjolras realised he was holding his breath. It all came out in one go when he saw Grantaire, who was standing in the doorway. Shirtless. All words died in his throat, and he coughed nervously and looked away. Grantaire was grinning.

'Is there a reason you're not wearing a shirt when it's about five degrees?' Enjolras was still shivering, soaking wet and cold, but he couldn't feel much heat emanating from Grantaire's apartment. 

Grantaire shrugged and moved away from the doorway. The movement of his shoulders made Enjolras' eyes flick unwillingly to his tattoos. He saw a bass clef on his collarbone, various patterns curling around his sides and when he turned around, a tattoo that looked like watercolour paint dripping down his shoulder blades. And then he was tugging a shirt over his head, the tattoos once again hidden from view.

They stood there, Enjolras slowly dripping onto the floor and Grantaire fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

'Um, do you want to have a shower? You look fucking freezing.' Grantaire said to his feet. 

Enjolras made a noise in the back of his throat and shut his eyes. A hot shower would be more than appreciated, and he tipped his head back slightly. When he opened his eyes, Grantaire was staring at him, so he coughed again and asked where the towels were. 

Five minutes later his half frozen clothes were piled in the corner and he was rolling his shoulders under the scalding water. It was blissful, and he pulled the knots out of his hair, forgetting all about the fact he was pretty much in a stranger's apartment. His thoughts turned to Grantaire and, against his will, his tattoos. And then, suddenly, his hand was on his half hard length, stroking roughly while he imagined touching the tattoos, running his fingers along his spine and pressing lips-

His eyes opened and he halted his thoughts. There was no way he was getting off to fantasies about _Grantaire_. But his hand jerked, and his head fell back against the wall, a moan escaping his throat as he started moving his hand again. Forcing his thoughts away from Grantaire, he came a few minutes later, biting his lip to stop himself crying out.

He cleaned up, washed his hair with coconut scented shampoo and hastily wrapped a towel around himself. Grantaire's apartment wasn't much warmer than outside, even in the steamy bathroom, and he dressed as quickly as possible without falling over in borrowed sweat pants and a shirt, both of which were too big and smelling of paint.

When his wet clothes were on the radiator (which wasn't on and probably wouldn't do much to dry them), he walked into the living room, looking around for the first time. There were easels and canvases everywhere, covered in paint and charcoal, and various pots and paintbrushes haphazardly arranged on the floor. A small sofa faced an even smaller television, and two windows next to them looked out onto the street below. A kitchen with a small table and two chairs was behind a counter partition, and Enjolras was about to look around more when Grantaire reappeared. 

'So um, there may be a problem,' He said, and his eyes were darting over Enjolras' damp hair and flushed cheeks. 'You may have noticed, but they heating's broken, and the only blankets I have are on my bed. So, um, you can sleep on the sofa if you want but you may die.'

Enjolras gave him a shrewd look.

'What are you proposing?' 

Grantaire's hands were twisting together in front of him (stained green, Enjolras noticed) and he looked up through dark eyelashes.

'We could share a bed. I swear I'll keep to my side, and I'll try not to steal the blanket too much, but I could sleep on the sofa if you want.'

Enjolras thought for a moment, and finally nodded. He'd already showered (and jerked off) in this supposedly stranger's apartment, and what harm could sharing a bed do?

Grantaire's face did _not_ light up and that was definitely _not_ a small smile as he led Enjolras to his room. His bed was small, and it only just looked big enough for two twenty something year old men. _At least we'll be warm, Enjolras thought._

When they'd both brushed their teeth (Enjolras had used his finger) and Grantaire had put on pyjamas (flannel trousers and a top) they stood awkwardly beside the bed, neither wanting to be the first to climb in. 

Grantaire cracked first, maybe because of the way his teeth were chattering, and Enjolras followed suit, drawing the blankets up to his chin. The lights were switched off, and all he could hear was Grantaire's breathing, faster than usual, but then again, so was his own.

They were both as far away from each other as possible, without falling off the edge of the bed, and Enjolras was desperately gripping the corners of the blanket to prevent it being pulled over by Grantaire. However, neither of their breaths evened out, and Enjolras could feel Grantaire shaking. He was slowly losing feeling in his toes, when he heard a loud sigh from beside him, and Grantaire was rolling over to face him.

'Enjolras,' He began, and Enjolras could only just see his eyes in the dim light, 'I am fucking freezing, and I'm pretty sure you are too, and I realise that we barely know each other and you may or may not hate me, but will you fucking get over here before we both die of hypothermia.'

Once again wondering how much he was going to regret every single decision of that night, he moved across the gap between them, pressing up close to Grantaire. They were nose to nose, and somehow Grantaire's leg was between his own, and Enjolras could see a billion ways in which this could go wrong-

'Roll over.' Grantaire said, poking him in the ribs, and he turned obediently. Oh. That was much comfier. His back was pressed against Grantaire's front, and their legs were a tangle of limbs, but he didn't really care because he could feel his feet again. 

It only took five minutes for them to warm up, and Grantaire stopped shivering around the time his breathing slowed down. Enjolras could feel his hair brushing the back of his neck, and lulled by the comfort of another warm body, he felt himself slipping into sleep. 

It was only when he was on the edge of a dream that he felt Grantaire's hands slip around his middle, and he drifted off, warm and content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i bring you fluff and a tiny bit of porn (if you squint) and tattoos  
> this chapter is dumb  
> this whole fic is pretty dumb  
> i dont know what's happening anymore, it's just writing itself
> 
> (p.s i love you)
> 
> ((this is dedicated to Valentina, babe, i hope ur exams went well and your day wasn't too horrible))
> 
> (((so yes, this has been a happy chapter)))
> 
> ((((do you wanna find out who the girl is next chapter?? that can be arranged))))


	7. I will move the earth

Enjolras woke up in someones arms for the first time. It took him a moment to adjust but when he looked down at the mass of dark curls he felt oddly comforted; this was Grantaire. And he felt like he had known Grantaire forever. He was blinking away sleep and simultaneously looking at Grantaire's sleeping form (which was curled around his own body) when he shifted.

'Morning.' Grantaire mumbled against his chest, and suddenly the arms were withdrawn from around his stomach, and Enjolras wrinkled his nose against the lack of warmth. Grantaire rolled onto his back so he was lying next to Enjolras, but their ankles were still twisted together and Enjolras could feel Grantaire's toes moving against his calf. 

They lay there in peaceful silence while the sun slowly crept through the thin curtains, occasionally murmuring little things of no importance, until a thought hit Enjolras.

'Can I ask you something?' He said. There was no way to approach this subject tentatively, so he would have to be blunt. Luckily, he was probably the best person at doing that. He didn't see the slight quirk of Grantaire's mouth, but he felt the nod against the pillow.

'Who was that girl in the library the other day?' He didn't need to elaborate. They both knew exactly who he was talking about. Grantaire rolled over so he was facing Enjolras, and looked at him with bright green eyes.

'It's going to sound pretty fucking bizarre, but you have to believe me, okay?'  
Enjolras nodded hesitantly, regarding Grantaire with wary eyes. 

'Ok. So she's the girlfriend of my two friends, Joly and Bossuet. Her name's Musichetta, and I swear I am in no way involved with her or have ever been.'

'But why was she on your lap and...kissing you?' 

'She wasn't kissing me, she was trying to distract me. She does that a lot, and according to Joly she's been wanting me to join her in bed for a while,' At this, Enjolras' eyebrows shot up. 'She does it to everyone though. Eponine said it happened to her a week ago and it's just what she _does_ . I don't...I don't want you to think she's my girlfriend or anything, because she's not.' Grantaire finished his little speech and looked at Enjolras.

'Oh. Okay then,' Enjolras definitely felt stupid. Like, really fucking stupid. 'I'm sorry I stormed out like that. I just...I feel very strongly about peoples behaviour in public and I didn't find that acceptable.' 

They lay there in silence again, and soon the rather uncomfortable mood had vanished and Enjolras felt his eyelids closing even though the little room was flooded with sunlight, but he was so warm and comfortable and-

Grantaire rolled out of bed in one swift move, sitting on the edge and facing the window.

'I need to have a shower.' He announced, and suddenly his shirt was being tugged over his head, and his back was bared to Enjolras. Who gazed at his tattoos as if he was hypnotised. He hated to say it, but he loved them. They were so _fitting_ for Grantaire, and however much he usually detested body modification of any sort, he couldn't help but feel the urge to see more.

So he reached out and touched Grantaire on the shoulder lightly, making him turn his face.

'Can I see your tattoos?' He asked quietly and it didn't seem odd at the time. The room was warm and tranquil, the light illuminating Grantaire's dark hair and it felt completely _normal_ to just touch this man in front of him, this man he'd only known for a week but had already shared a bed with and wrapped his arms around and had a reason to be angry with.

Grantaire smiled a little, because he was damn proud of his tattoos, and sat cross legged in front of Enjolras.

First, he pointed to the bass clef on his collar bone, and told Enjolras that he got it because the bass clef deserved just as much attention as the treble clef ('those fucking teenage white girls and their musical inequality').

He showed him the line of music on his right forearm, the beginning of Clair de Lune which Enjolras found out was his favourite piece of music. He played piano. 

The bow and arrows on the base of his spine, representative of Nisus, and the watercolour on his shoulder blades that seemed to ripple whenever he moved.

Decorating his sides were tribal patterns and symmetrical shapes, in greens and reds and blacks, curling round underneath his ribs. On his left ankle, inked in black font, was the name 'Pylades'. Enjolras smiled. Grantaire told him he was the unaccepted Pylades, and Enjolras wondered if he was the Orestes.

On his little finger was a red string, tied round and trailing down his hand, and on the back of his left hand, tiny stars trickled up his fingers. Grantaire explained the Chinese belief of the red string of fate; A red string ties you to your soulmate by your little fingers. The string may stretch or tangle, but it will never break. Grantaire believed in that.

To show Enjolras his final tattoos, he tugged his trousers down his waist, just keeping himself covered, but baring his angular hips. 

On them were the quotes:

 _'I sing of arms and of a man'_

and on the other

_'Give me a place to stand and I will move the earth.'_

Enjolras couldn't resist trailing his fingers over the letters, taken from the Aeneid and the Iliad, and heard a quiet intake of breath from above him. He looked up and wide green eyes met blue.

It almost felt like he was being pulled forward by some ethereal force, but Grantaire's hands were tugging on his shirt, and their lips fell together in the middle, soft and sleepy.

It was natural, and it felt as if his whole life had been building up to that moment; the way Grantaire twisted his fingers in his hair, or how his own hands skimmed up Grantaire's bare back. How their lips moved in sync and time seemed to stop around them. 

Enjolras didn't know if they'd been kissing for minutes or weeks, but eventually they had to break away from each other, hands still clutching at fabric and skin.

' _You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again._ ' Grantaire sighed into his neck, and Enjolras recognised more words from the Iliad, and vaguely wondered if Grantaire had memorised the entire book.

But all too soon, Grantaire was climbing out of the warm bed and padding to the bathroom, Enjolras' eyes watching him the whole way.

As he lay there in happiness, his mind flicked over the quote again, remembering the start of it suddenly:

_"Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this turned really descriptive and romantic and i really love poetic stuff ok
> 
> ALSO YAY ITS CHETTA! i had a few people asking if she was his sister and no, no incest, this isnt game of thrones
> 
> (also tattoos goddam)  
> ((i spent an hour choosing them))  
> (((im really happy)))  
> ((((very symbolic hum yes))))


	8. My friends are weird

It was a week later that Grantaire woke up in Enjolras' bed, alone for the first time. Sitting up he saw a note placed neatly on the pillow, covered in Enjolras' nearly illegible handwriting. He managed to decipher the words 'class' and 'sorry' but the rest was a scribble. He must have been in a hurry. Grantaire didn't particularly mind. Of course, it would have been a lot nicer if Enjolras _had_ been there, but he had a nice bed and Grantaire was content to lie there in a sleepy doze.

When he did finally get up, he wandered into the kitchen in his boxers, and began making some coffee. He was midway through pouring it when he heard a loud whistle behind him. Turning around, he saw a man with messy brown hair, similar to his own, wearing a shirt and jeans. 

'You must be Grant.' He said, and Grantaire gave him a strange look. He was suddenly acutely aware that he was nearly naked in his boyfriend-but-not-quite's kitchen, while a stranger was blatantly checking out his tattoos.

'I'm Courfeyrac. My boyfriend is Enjy's roommate.' He stuck his thumbs in his belt loops, and as if on cue, a blond man appeared behind him, naked except for a sheet wrapped around his shoulders and hanging loosely around him. Grantaire coughed and turned back to his coffee, feeling a blush rise on his neck.

Courfeyrac and the blond man, who Grantaire assumed was Jehan, were talking behind him, and not at all trying to be quiet about it.

'So he's Grant? He's hot.' Jehan said and Grantaire heard Courfeyrac snort.

'Not as hot as me, I hope.' 

'Never as hot as you, my love. But maybe if you were to get some tattoos...' Grantaire could almost feel Jehan's gaze raking over his spine, and stood stock still.

'E's been talking about you a lot.' Grantaire turned around when he realised they were talking to him, and leant awkwardly against the counter, coffee in hand.

'He really likes you.' Courfeyrac said matter-of-factly, as if they usually spent Monday mornings discussing their friend's romantic interests.

'Have you two fucked yet?' Jehan said. Jehan, who had been described as the sweet little poet, who put flowers in his hair and watched the clouds. Grantaire choked on his mouthful of coffee and put it down before he spilt it on himself.

'Um..no?' He said, his eyes watering.

'Really?' Jehan sounded put out. 'That's a shame. He's really good.' The whole room went silent, and all pairs of eyes were on Jehan.

'And you would know that how?' Courfeyrac asked, but there was no jealousy in his voice, only teasing. Jehan shrugged and pulled the sheet over his head.

'I know things.' He answered, and that was definitely a smirk and Grantaire slurped his coffee as casually as possible. With another cough, he turned around again to maybe try and find some breakfast. There were oats, some strange looking fruits, hundreds of yogurts and whole meal bread, and something that looked like frozen porridge with a note attached reading _'eat at your own peril'_. Grantaire shut the fridge and decided to get something from Starbucks.

When he turned around again, Jehan's sheet was on the floor, Courfeyrac's shirt was unbuttoned, and Grantaire was pretty sure Jehan's tongue was in Courfeyrac's throat. A small part of him was impressed at their silent (and scarily fast) undressing skills, but most of him felt rather sick, so he walked as fast as he could to Enjolras' room with a hand over his eyes.

-

He was three hours late for work, and Eponine gave him her evilest look.

'You piece of shit, I need to be somewhere, but I had to stay here and help acne infected teenagers find books about puberty.' She gave him the finger, and stormed out, applying mascara as she walked. 

He sat down with a sigh, but quickly, the sigh turned into a grin. Enjolras was sitting at his table, his back to Grantaire and intently typing on his laptop. Taking off his shoes so as to be quiet, Grantaire tiptoed up behind him and put his lips against his neck.

'I thought you had class.' He whispered. Enjolras didn't even jump, but he did lean his head ever so slightly backwards.

'It finished.' Enjolras replied, and his fingers had stilled on the keys. Grantaire placed his lips against his neck, softly at first and making Enjolras gasp, before using teeth and biting and sucking at the soft flesh.

Enjolras moaned, and Grantaire stopped.

'This is a library, Enjolras, you must be quiet.' He purred, tongue darting out to Enjolras' earlobe. He moaned again and Grantaire chuckled, before withdrawing and collapsing in a seat next to him.

Enjolras pouted at him and took his hand.

'Your friends are weird.' Grantaire said after a while, and Enjolras' eyes widened.

'Oh shit, what did they say? I swear, none of it's true they're all liars, god I'm going to kill them. Was it Courf? Oh god I'm so sorry you had to meet them they're really strange I..' He trailed off when he saw Grantaire grinning and narrowed his eyes, 'What happened?'

'Oh, nothing. I was half naked and Jehan and Courfeyrac both started checking me out, told me that you liked me a lot,' Enjolras buried his face in his knees and Grantaire squeezed his hand, 'and then proceeded to have a make out session in the middle of the kitchen.'

'They do that a lot,' Enjolras said. Then, 'I do like you a lot.'

'And I like you.' They smiled cautiously at each other; they had only been 'together' for a week and it was new to both of them, but they made each other happy and that was everything.

-

When they returned to Enjolras' apartment that afternoon, they found Jehan and Courfeyrac curled up in a pillow nest they had made on the floor, asleep. Grantaire bit his lip to stop himself from smiling, and even Enjolras was looking fondly at them. It seemed that Courfeyrac wasn't completely unconscious, and his arm waved them over.

'Join our cuddle pile.' He mumbled sleepily, inviting them both down. Somewhat dubiously, they kicked off their shoes, and lay down in the blankets and pillows piled up behind the sofa.

'Mmm.' Courfeyrac said, his eyes still shut, and his arms tightened around the sleeping boy beside him. Grantaire curled around Enjolras, until they were all smushed together in the nest. It was deliciously warm and comfortable, and soon enough, they were all asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CUDDLE PILES YES  
> this was fun to write mmm
> 
> (has jehan slept with e we'll never know)  
> ((or maybe we will))  
> (((jehan and courf i just love them so much)))  
> ((((courf is gonna get some tats what should he get?))))
> 
> p.s i love you


	9. Cuts and bruises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood and hospitals (not too descriptive)

Enjolras opened the door with shaking hands, and Combeferre immediately grabbed him by the shoulders and demanded what had happened. If Combeferre was panicking, then it must be something bad. Enjolras sat down and told him, with a quavering voice and shock on his face.

Him and Grantaire had been together for nearly four months. The first two months had been the best of his life, kissing, talking and the _sex_. But slowly as they got to know each other better, they found their differences. A lot of differences. Both political and emotional. They were polar opposites of each other, it turned out, and naturally they had arguments. They were never very bad, a few angry words and maybe someone (usually Enjolras) would storm out, but in two days everything would be fine. 

But the past week had been treading on thin ice for Grantaire. Enjolras had his finals coming up, and he spent every waking moment immersed in books and notes. So that night, when Grantaire had come up behind him and kissed his neck, Enjolras had told him to go away. When Grantaire ignored him three more times, he shoved backwards, tired and stressed and not thinking. Grantaire fell back and Enjolras' blood turned cold as he heard a sickening crack. 

Grantaire was on the floor, one hand on the back his head and wide eyes as he looked up at Enjolras, who was frozen in his seat. Eponine was called, and ten minutes later Grantaire was on his way to hospital, after Eponine had punched Enjolras in the face, of course.

'What's happening now? Why aren't you with him?' Combeferre said, one hand in his hair.

'Will you drive me?' Enjolras asked, and Combeferre, thankfully, nodded. 

Somehow everybody knew, and on the way Enjolras' phone lit up with numerous texts from Jehan and Courfeyrac in varying states of alarm. He switched it off, urging Combeferre to drive faster through the rain. They arrived, and Enjolras ran out of the car and into the hospital, his eyes searching for messy black hair (he didn't think about the blood) and too many tattoos, bright green eyes and paint stained shirts. But he saw none. 

Combeferre dragged him to the desk, holding him upright and speaking to the nurse.

'Grantaire?' She said, scanning through her logbook, 'Yes, just got admitted with a head wound. Are you family?' Her eyes were darting to Enjolras' cut lip and bruised cheek, but he ignored it.

'He's my boyfriend.' He said with as much strength as he could, and the woman's eyes widened ever so slightly, a reaction he was used to. 

'Oh, well okay then. He's in room 76, planning on being kept overnight, but please don't distu-' Enjolras was already halfway down the hallway, squeezing around nurses and patients, before jerking to a stop outside the room.

The door was open, and he fell inside. Grantaire was occupying the bed, a bandage tied tightly around his head, and a cluster of people around his bed. His eyes were closed. 

'I-' He began, but all words were sticking in his throat. Eponine turned, and the look she sent could've killed, but Joly was pulling her back, muttering about too many injuries already. 

'Is he okay?' He finally managed to choke out, and Joly went to stand next to him. 

'He's asleep now. Eponine said he was barely conscious for the journey, but they don't know how bad the wound is until they get x-rays back. I'm sure he's fine, Enjolras. It wasn't bleeding too badly, they just need to know if he cracked the bone.' 

Enjolras nodded and was about to step forwards when the door banged open behind him and Jehan, Courfeyrac, Feuilly and Bahorel ran in. He stared at them. Courfeyrac was shirtless with a large plaster on his side, Jehan appeared to be dressed as a pirate, Bahorel was wearing a bathrobe (which he was hastily tightening around his waist), and Feuilly had paint up to his elbows, and smears on his cheeks. 

The attention fell from Grantaire as everyone stared at the circus group and explanations were given. Courfeyrac had been in the midst of getting a tattoo, hence the plaster on his side, and Jehan had been in the fancy dress shop next door (no one asked why). Bahorel coughed, and mumbled something about life drawing modelling, and Feuilly blushed and said painting. 

But then everyone was turning back to Grantaire, and the noise rose as Bahorel demanded to know how he was and Jehan began to cry in the back. Eventually, a nurse came in, shouted at them all to leave because they were disturbing her patient. After lots of negotiation, she allowed Enjolras to stay, on the premises he didn't let any of them back in, even Eponine.

Goodbyes were said, (Eponine swore at the nurse and then threatened to punch Enjolras again) and the band of people disappeared. Enjolras could still hear them down the hallway, but then the door banged shut and he was alone. Except for Grantaire. 

Trying to swallow back the lump in his throat, he approached the bed for the first time. Grantaire looked so tiny, swallowed up by the blankets and machines, and with a gasp Enjolras saw that the back of his head was shaved. And it was his fault. He cried.

He cried for an hour, curled up next to Grantaire, clutching his hand and murmuring meaningless things, and in all honesty, he didn't know what to do. He traced the tattoos up his arms, kissed the freckles on his cheeks, and vowed never to hurt him again. 

It was nearing midnight when Grantaire woke up. Enjolras didn't notice at first, but then Grantaire stirred and he sat up. 

'Grantaire?' He whispered, aware of how thick his voice sounded, and his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. 

'“Why so much grief for me? No man will hurl me down to Death, against my fate.'' Grantaire said in a voice that sounded as if he had been awake longer. But he recognised the quote, again from the Iliad, and wondered if the Iliad was going to describe their entire lives.

'I'm so sorry.' Enjolras said, but he meant different words, words he was still too afraid to say. Grantaire squeezed his hand, almost as if he knew.

"Hateful to me is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another.” Grantaire said, and he was smiling a little now. Enjolras seriously considered asking if he knew the entire Iliad of by heart, but he laughed, low and quiet.

'I love you.' He said finally, and Grantaire's eyes opened.

'I love you too.' He murmured.

 _The lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad_ , Enjolras thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so yes, sorry for the angst kind of, but damn it turned back into fluff.   
> also sorry grantaire, ily really and so does E. he's just stressed
> 
> (pirate jehan i have mental images)  
> ((inc. eyeliner, swashbuckling trousers and shirt god he's sexy))  
> (((courf's tattoo is sexy too)))  
> ((((guess where bahorel and feuilly were hmm *wiggles eyebrows*))))  
> (((((hint: they were together)))))


	10. A moment for Feuilly and Bahorel

'It's good he woke up. Is he okay?' Feuilly said as he shut the door, phone pressed to his ear.

'Yeah, he's talking and the doctors said he hasn't fractured the bone. Should be coming home tomorrow.' Enjolras' voice was crackly down the line, but Feuilly could hear the relief in it.

'Cool, I'll come se- arhg.' He staggered backwards as Bahorel came rushing at him from behind.

'Feuilly? Are you okay?' Feuilly battled with the arm round his neck and the other round his waist, trying to elbow Bahorel from where he was behind him.

'Yeah it's just Bahorel,' He gasped, 'I'll get back to you okay?' He hung up, still wrestling with the choke hold, and threw the phone on the sofa.

'Get the fuck off me.' He shouted, trying in vain to prise the arm around his neck off, wondering if he was going purple. The arms released, but then he was being tackled round the waist, and they tumbled over the back of the sofa in a heap, arms flailing through the air.

'Nice to see you too.' Feuilly gasped from where he was, pinned under the dead weight that was Bahorel. He chuckled. And then his hands were on Feuilly's sides and tickling him for all it was worth. Bahorel's idea of tickling was more painful then fun tickling, and Feuilly tried to curl up while simultaneously trying to shove him off. 

Finally, a well aimed punch hit Bahorel in the jaw, and he stopped with a low laugh. His head hadn't even moved, and Feuilly's fist was throbbing. He glared at Bahorel from where he was hovering over him, kicking at his shins halfheartedly. 

And then suddenly Bahorel's mouth was on his neck and his fingers unbuttoning his shirt frighteningly quickly. Feuilly gasped and tilted his head back automatically, while Bahorel kissed and scraped his teeth along his neck, before dropping to his collar bone, leaving a trail of red bruises. 

It took all of his willpower to thread his fingers in Bahorel's hair and tug him off. Bahorel looked up at him with dark eyes, and he looked positively _obscene_ , all red lips and tousled hair and the scruff of ever present beard. Feuilly groaned.

'We can't do this. Not again.' He said without much conviction, because Bahorel's mouth was back on his chest and he was using his tongue now, tracing it along his freckles. Feuilly arched his back.

'Fuck, Bahorel, stop.' 

'That's not what you said last night.' Bahorel smirked and Feuilly could feel the curve of his lips against his chest. Then Bahorel rolled his hips and Feuilly had to bite his lip to stop moaning because he was not letting Bahorel win this time. 

With an extreme amount of strength Feuilly managed to force himself into a sitting position, which only succeeded in Bahorel wrapping his legs around Feuilly's waist. His mouth was still on Feuilly's neck, and he knew he would be covered in bruises the next day. Finally, _finally_ , he disentangled himself from the other man, pushing him onto the sofa and ignoring his whine of protest.

-

Feuilly sat down in the hot water, sighing as it enveloped his tired limbs, and shut his eyes. Baths were possibly his favourite things, and he hummed a little tune as he started scrubbing the paint off his arms, feeling the steam rising and dampening his curls. He was so far away in his own world that he didn't hear the click as the door opened behind him.

'Jesus, you have so many fucking freckles.' 

Feuilly twisted round in shock, which quickly subsided into anger, as he glared at Bahorel. Who was removing clothing.

'I'm in the fucking bath, you pervert.' He said, keeping his body angled away. Bahorel only snorted.

'Nothing I haven't seen before.' 

'I fucking hate you.'

'Again, not what you said last night.' Bahorel was grinning at him as he tugged his jeans down, and Feuilly tried so hard not to look at Bahorel's tattoos. He did anyway.

When Bahorel was hooking his fingers under the edge of his boxers Feuilly groaned.

'Are you going to get in this fucking bath with me?' He said incredulously.

'Saving the environment!' Bahorel said cheerily, and then he was naked. Feuilly immediately turned back around, blushing furiously.

'There's not enough room for both of us.' He said, but his argument was quickly losing all its power, and he was well aware of how his body was betraying him.

'Then make room.' Bahorel said in his ear, and Feuilly shivered in the too hot bath.

And then Bahorel was climbing in next to him, while he squeezed into the furthest corner, and he sat down with a splash. He stretched out his legs and his feet pressed against Feuilly's hips.

Feuilly still hadn't given in though, and his head fell back against the rim of the bath.

'I said no.' But they both knew he didn't mean it, because Bahorel was squeezing his ankles and dragging Feuilly forwards until he was sitting with Bahorel's legs around him again.

'I hate you.' He said, and Bahorel kissed him, rough and too much tongue, but Feuilly moaned and kissed back harder, all his cares thrown out the window because this was Bahorel, and Bahorel didn't give a fuck about anything, let alone fucking his best friend.

When they were finished and gasping in each others arms, Bahorel washed Feuilly's hair, his fingers digging gently into his scalp, while Feuilly tried again to scrub the blue paint off his elbows.

Twenty minutes later they were curled around each other, warm and dry, in Feuilly's bed, while Bahorel ran fingers up and down his spine.

'I don't really hate you.' Feuilly sighed into the pillow, and Bahorel smiled behind him.

'I know.' He pressed a soft kiss against his neck, and they fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FEUILLY/BAHOREL BROTP OHMYGOD
> 
> this is ridiculous im sorry but i needed a short break from E and R   
> (have you noticed my obsession with tattoos)  
> ((also freckles))  
> (((but bahorel im)))  
> ((((im so sorry this had to happen))))  
> (((((i love you)))))


	11. The end

When Grantaire woke up the next day, Enjolras didn't think he'd ever been happier to see his eyes. They were green, but when you looked close, they were flecked with gold. Grantaire smiled blearily at him, one hand automatically going to his head, but Enjolras took it in his instead.

'You're fine.' He whispered, but he could feel Grantaire's hand clutching his own tightly. 

'Are we?' He said softly, and Enjolras blanched. The things they had said the previous night, did Grantaire remember? Or had the pain medication muddled his brain.

'I love you.' Enjolras said into the silence, and Grantaire shut his eyes. 

'Just checking it wasn't a dream.' He said, and his lips were curved into a smile. Enjolras kissed him, his thumb brushing over Grantaire's cheek. Enjolras would've loved to say that he had stayed by his side all night, and into the morning (it was already midday), but that would be a lie. 

At one in the morning, he had snuck out of the hospital, his heart racing, and dialled Eponine. After being shouted at and called 'a stupid fuck who should care a bit more about his boyfriend' he managed to wrangle a midnight tattoo session, on the premise that he never hurt Grantaire again in any way, shape or form. He promised in all sincerity, and she grudgingly told him the address. 

That was how he found himself on a ratty leather chair gritting his teeth, while Eponine inked his skin, humming tunes through the cigarette in her teeth. He took the time to properly look at her. Her hair was long, almost to her waist, but she had it tied up on top of her head in a messy bun. Her arms and, Enjolras guessed, the majority of her body, were covered in tattoos of her own design; words, numbers, patterns, shapes and animals, sprawling up her shoulders and down her calves. 

He saw lines on her wrists, artfully covered with ink, but the white scars still stood out faintly. He didn't mention it. When she was done, he didn't even look in the mirror, but thrust the money in her hand with as gracious a 'thank you' as he could manage, before tearing out back to the hospital. 

Sitting with Grantaire, he pulled his lips away finally, kissing him once on the cheek, before bringing his feet up onto the bed.

'Look.' He said quietly, and showed his ankle, bearing the name 'Orestes' to Grantaire. He gasped when he saw, and looked at Enjolras in disbelief, wonder shining in his eyes.

'You're my Orestes.' He said, before dragging him down into another kiss. Enjolras stopped it short again, pressing a single finger against his lips and laughing when he kissed that too.

'Everyone's coming to visit tonight, and you can come home. Your brain is fine, but Joly is still convinced it's flattened or something,' Grantaire huffed a laugh, 'Shall we go now?' 

-

That evening, everyone was squeezed into Enjolras' flat. A movie was playing but no one was watching, and most people were drinking to Grantaire's health, including Grantaire, and talking idly among themselves. Enjolras sat peacefully while Grantaire chatted to Eponine next to him. When he heard Grantaire mention his tattoo, Enjolras gave Eponine a look, and she gave a tiny nod of acknowledgment. She steered the conversation away, and Enjolras smiled to himself.

He surveyed his friends in the time he had. Jehan and Courfeyrac were sitting on each other as usual, but talking rather than kissing. They were possibly the sweetest couple Enjolras had ever known, and he couldn't help but admire how perfect they were for each other. He watched with a fond smile as Courfeyrac poked Jehan's sides, both giggling at something private.

He looked over at Feuilly and Bahorel, both laughing raucously in the corner, but his eyes caught on the large purple bruise blossoming on his neck. In astonishment, he wondered when Feuilly had gotten a new girlfriend, planning to ask later. However, he didn't seem to be the only one who had noticed, because he could see Courfeyrac pointing as well.

'Feuilly,' Courfeyrac called, 'who leeched your neck?' Everyone turned to look, and Feuilly turned as red as his hair. Strangely, Bahorel moved ever so slightly away, staying silent for once. Enjolras narrowed his eyes.

'Um. No one. I just fell over. And bruised my neck. When I fell.' Feuilly appeared to be trying to hide in his jumper, and Courfeyrac was looking at him as if he was mad.

'I just thought you had a new girlfriend, that's all. It's nothing to be ashamed of!' Courfeyrac proceeded to demonstrate that by kissing Jehan fiercely, both falling onto the floor.

With one more look at Feuilly, who was gulping his beer nervously, he decided not to pry too much, even though he had a pretty good idea of who had given him the impressive hickey.

He looked at Joly and Bossuet who were lounging on the chair next to him, and appeared to be discussing Musichetta. ('I'm not saying I don't like it when she does that.' 'Yeah, I like it too.' 'Just maybe not so much.' 'Oh god, I thought I was the only one')

Combeferre was sitting on the other side of Eponine, and they were talking quietly, but Enjolras noted how Combeferre was angled towards her and how their legs were maybe closer than need be. Combeferre caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, before turning back to her. 

When Enjolras looked to the side, Grantaire was asleep. His head was lolling over the back of the sofa, and his face was the picture of peace. He yawned himself, and looked at the time. It was going on eleven, and Enjolras decided that was time to end. He stretched, and in hushed voices told everyone Grantaire was asleep, and soon enough they had made quiet goodbyes and exits.

He shut the door with a low click, and turned back to Grantaire. There was only one things for it; he would have to carry him to bed. Rolling up his sleeves, he slipped one arm under Grantaire's legs and one under his shoulders. He was about to stand, when Grantaire began to laugh.

'What are you doing?' He said, and opened one eye. Enjolras blushed.

'I was going to carry you to bed. I didn't want to wake you.'

'You're too kind. I can walk, I'm not an invalid.'

'Well, that is debatable.' That earned him a light punch on the arm, and they slipped into the bedroom.

Ten minutes later they were curled around each other, talking about nothing. Enjolras decided to tell him.

He held up his right hand in the air, in front of Grantaire's face. It took a moment, but then Grantaire saw what it was. The red line inked around Enjolras' little finger, trailing across his hand.

'Oh.' Was all Grantaire said, and Enjolras was shocked to see his eyes filled with tears suddenly.

'No don't cry...' He said weakly, and Grantaire laughed even though they were already falling down his cheeks, and his hand went to brush them off.

'You're my Orestes, but are you my soulmate?' He said, hiccuping slightly, and Enjolras pressed his lips to his cheek and wrapped his arms around his waist. 

'Yes.' He murmured, and felt Grantaire shiver. Their hands entwined, the strings joining perfectly on their hands.

Grantaire looked at him once more, before closing his eyes with a smile on his lips.

_'You've given me a place to stand, and together, we can move the earth.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this ended kinda suddenly, but really, there was no where i could take this  
> massive thank you to everyone who has read this, it means so much to me that you actually take time to read the shit that comes out my brain? (im still trying to get my head around that)
> 
> ((I HOPE YOU LIKED THE LAST LINE I AM SO FUCKING PROUD))  
> (((and all the ships godam)))  
> ((((i just realised i forgot marius and cosette, sorry guys ily really))))
> 
> SO YES I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH IT IS RIDICULOUS, I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS FIC, YOU'RE ALL WONDERFUL


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